


The Book of The Messiah

by JessiBoBessi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Black Romance, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Red Romance, Story of the Sufferor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessiBoBessi/pseuds/JessiBoBessi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Ship. The love beyond quadrants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GH: that lucky nubby-horned motherfucker should have kept his motherfuckin mouth shut and his filthy blood quiet
> 
> GH: AND MAYBE HE WOULDN’T BE A PILE OF ASH AND IRONS
> 
> GH: and he’d be able to make sure you weren’t motherfuckin alone.
> 
> ML: KANKRI WAS NEVER VERY GOOD AT BEING QUIET.

**BOOK OF THE MESSIAH**

**CHAPTER ONE:PROLOGUE**

****** **

You honestly never thought you’d see him again, not since you left so many sweeps ago. But, there he was. He looked young, huge, draped in purple and black like he always was and always would be. It was like time hadn't passed in this room, the walls Technicolor splatter against the gray skin, black clothes and white faces of everyone in it.  You sighed as his minions bustled about, making sure you were situated correctly without touching you. They were disgusted by you, a lowly green blood surrounded by purple, a non-believer surrounded by those who had been touched by the mirthful, a follower of the Signless in the house of the chuckle-worthy.

Your old bones ached as you stood, the sheer force of pulling breath into your lungs was beginning to get painful as you hunched over your walking stick. You weren’t long for this world, and you knew it, and you cherished the idea that this hell of a life would be over soon. You would have loved to spend out your days in solitude, locked away in your cave with your book and your memories, your sadness. But the young child, barely grown, had brought you the official document, and you had come as told. Summoned like the slave you would never be again. The look he held for you wasn't that of a master commanding a slave, however.

It was a little ironic that you could still see some of the affection in his purple eyes as he stared down at you.

[SHOW DIALOGLOG.]

GH: come here my wicked kitty bitch

GH: AND KNEEL LIKE YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

ML: PLEASE, DON'T. WHY HAVE YOU CALLED ME HERE?

GH: i can call whoever i motherfuckin want

GH: AND I MOTHERFUCKIN WANTED TO CALL YOU HERE.

ML: THERE HAS GOT TO BE A REASON. I AM AN EXILE, COULDN’T YOU LEAVE ME IN MY CAVE.

GH: no i couldn’t.

GH: I COULDN’T GO AND MOTHERFUCKIN DO THAT.

ML: WHAT DO YOU WANT? I AM OLD AND WEAK AND DYING, I AM SAD AND ALONE AND THE LOVE OF MY LIFE HAS BEEN DEAD FOR YEARS. I WANT TO SIT IN MY CAVE AND DIE IN PEACE, LET ME GO BACK TO IT AND LEAVE ME BE.

GH: i motherfuckin can’t meulin

GH: I MOTHERFUCKIN CAN’T.

GH: the thought of you all alone out there

GH: MAKES MY PAN ACHE AND MY BLOOD PUMPER WANT TO RIP ITSELF OUT OF MY RIBS

GH: let me take care of you my sweet kitty

ML: I’M TIRED, KURLOZ, I’M TOO TIRED.

ML: LET ME SL33P IN PEACE.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and you thought he might reach out then and strike you down. It wouldn’t even be hard for him, you were always small, he was always strong, and you were so frail now. Instead he sighed, a little sad as he looked at the splatter on the walls, as if it held some divine secret.

GH: that lucky nubby-horned motherfucker should have kept his motherfuckin mouth shut and his filthy blood quiet

GH: AND MAYBE HE WOULDN’T BE A PILE OF ASH AND IRONS

GH: and he’d be able to make sure you weren’t motherfuckin alone.

ML: KANKRI WAS NEVER VERY GOOD AT BEING QUIET.

You bow politely as best as your brittle old bones will let you, your green eyes, flicking up to meet the painted face of him. Kruloz Makara had never been anything other than kind to you, and he always had tried to protect you. He’d made mistakes, and you’d both chosen different paths, but were the world different, you could see yourself being flushed red for him for a long time. Heavens knew he always would be for you, even now when you were old and broken and he was the epitome of health and youth.

You turn, your walking-stick clacking loudly against the ground as you walk away from the Grand Highblood’s throne, away from one of the only trolls that had ever made you feel safe. But that was a long time ago, and the other one was long dead. Your pan is tired, your pusher aches, and your lungs burn, but that was a constant thing now.

You weren’t long for this joke of a world, and that thought alone gave you strength to continue every day until your end came.


	2. Act One: Lost Souls, Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s the worst that could happen? Fate didn’t seem kind enough to let you die just yet.

**ACT ONE**

LOST SOULS

**CHAPTER ONE.**

_____________________________________________________

Your name is **MEULIN LEIJON** and your Lusus is dead.

Given the circumstances of your beloved caretaker’s death, you are not able to mourn at this moment because you are very busy **WALKING NEARLY NAKED THROUGH THE DESERT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY.**

The pads of your feet burn against the hot sand and you feel, not for the first time today, bubbling blisters burst and fill with grating sand. You know for a fact that if you could look behind you, oozy olive footprints of your own blood would be trailing from the mountain scape you’d been left at.

 

No matter how many times you reassure yourself, you’re not certain you’re happy that she left you alive.

The weight of your Lusus’ carcass is starting to take its toll on you, as well as the blistering heat of the Alternian sun. The hood of your cloak is keeping the bright light from blinding you, but that doesn’t stop your vision from going a little blurry and your pan from spinning. Despite the sweat that’s dripping from your over exerted body, you’re shivering against the whipping desert winds.

You are going to have to stop and rest if you have any hope of making it to **the safe hive.** What a stupid name for a place, **the safe hive.** Who has even ever _heard_ of a safe hive before? As your back sends a sudden twinge of pain up your spine, you start to feel sympathy for the other lowbloods.

You lived your life as a slave, but lived your life as a slave of comfort. You’ve never done manual labor, and dragging a full grown, dead purrbeast across a desert was a lot more exhausting than hunting trips and fetching things for your mast- former master. You suppose it's about time you started sympathizing with other lowbloods, since you were going to be living with them. That is, assuming they let you in, instead of casting you out like your master had.

You’re not even really sure what you did to anger him enough for him to do what he’d done…he didn’t even have the decency to make you forget before she came and took you away.

The welts on your back, which had been splitting open by the second, stung and burned as sand lashed at them under the cloth that was stuck to them, and the throb at the base of your tailbone is worse than it’s been in…well, in the three days you’ve had it. 

Where the fuck did it all go wrong? Everything was purrfect a month ago. A week ago. Hell, two days ago everything was still as it had always been, you were well taken care of, no talk of rebels and secret camps and lowblood safe hives.

The high noon heat was starting to burn your exposed arms and legs, the olive flush turning darker, and you hadn’t had water in hours.

You stumble, one of your pained, nearly numb toes stumbling against a rock as you fall. Your balance hasn’t been what it once was. You try to right yourself, but the weight of the beast atop you was making it impossible.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to end. Maybe you would die here, under the body of your beloved Lusus, fried by the Alternian sun.

You managed to drag yourself and your burden to a nearby rock, pulling yourself into the shade it offered, tugging your fallen guardian to you. One clawed hand moves to tangle fingers in the soft fur of the body of your lusus. Even without the warmth of life, without the steady rise and fall of breath, it was comforting to touch the soft fur.

 

You slump your face against the white fur, letting tears slip past your lashes. The loss of water burns your eyes, but you can’t hold them anymore. Maybe if you can sleep through the heat of the day, you can continue your journey during the cool of night.

What’s the worst that could happen? Fate didn’t seem kind enough to let you die just yet.


	3. Act One: Lost Souls, Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Theriouthly, I heard thomething over there."
> 
> “While I don’t doubt that you thought you heard something, it’s highly unlikely that you would have all the way out here. Or, rather, it’s unlikely that you would have heard anything worth investigating besides one of the many desert dwelling creatures that tend to make alarming and frightening sounds in the middle of the night. Though, you may have very well been hallucinating, which I am told is a very common occurrence for trolls who have been separated from-“
> 
> “Oh my gog KV, thut the fuck up.”
> 
> You peer over the edge of the white fur, your eyes still blurry from a day in the sun. Three shapes, as you suspected.

**ACT ONE**

LOST SOULS

**CHAPTER TWO.**

_____________________________________________________

 

The cool press of familiar bedding against your back is relaxing and plush and you are comfortable with the colorful surroundings. You’re used to them and they make your eyes calmer than earlier, when they burned.

You can’t remember why they burned.

Keen ears pick up mumbling and you turn your face towards it. You smile, the familiar face of your master coming towards you. You stretch out your hand to him, and he takes it, yours so small in his huge grasp. Safe, he always made you feel safe. He slid over you, and you purred lightly as he pressed his painted lips and face against yours, and you giggled at the familiar scent of powder and grub paint.

You were his. He lowered his teeth to your neck lightly, grazing your skin enough for it to flush green before he lifted you, turning you over as he started rubbing his large hands down your spine. Arching into his touch you let out a pleased rattle as his claw tipped hands dipped lower on the flesh of your back.

His claws dug harder and you flinched, pouting. He pulled rougher and flesh tore and you whimpered. He dug his fangs roughly into the flesh of your back so hard you felt drips of olive blood stain the purple and black sheets and you cried.

White hot pain seared as tendons tore at the base of your spine and you screamed.

Your eyes shot open and you were 99% sure you had been dreaming.

Your pulse biscuit was pounding against your ribs as the cool night sky sparkled above you and the cold body of your Lusus laid next to you in the sand. You were dizzy, thirsty and freezing. The murmuring sounds came closer as you scooted into the crevice of the rock you’d slept by.

“Theriouthly, I heard thomething over there,” said a voice that sounded more amused than the others. A groan followed behind him as your ears twitched.

Three trolls. You held your breath, hoping they’d leave.

 

“While I don’t doubt that you thought you heard something, it’s highly unlikely that you would have all the way out here. Or, rather, it’s unlikely that you would have heard anything worth investigating besides one of the many desert dwelling creatures that tend to make alarming and frightening sounds in the middle of the night. Though, you may have very well been hallucinating, which I am told is a very common occurrence for trolls who have been separated from-“

“Oh my gog KV, thut the fuck up.”

You peer over the edge of the white fur, your eyes still blurry from a day in the sun. Three shapes, as you suspected. Two male, one female, you gathered.

One of the men is tall and thin, slouching though even that did nothing to hide the fact that his spindly frame towered over the other two. He had two sets of horns, a trait not usually seen, but not strictly a “mutation.” He wore a deep yellow, a color that offended your senses in every sense of the word, and had the headpiece of someone with psychic powers.

The other is a short, broad man wearing mostly black with red accents. You can’t make out much more about him beyond that, other than the fact that he was the chatty one who continued his lengthy argument.

 

The third was a woman, tall and shapely, though touched with a few hints of aging. Jade accents slid over her black clothing as she turned, her pale face stopping to stare directly at where you hid with your dead Lusus. None of them seemed to be armed.

 

Then again, neither were you and you were in no condition to fight, your eyes blurring and barely able to focus, your pan throbbing, and your ears ringing. The woman placed a gentile hand on one of them; the shorter one with red tints to his clothes, and spoke in hushed tones. You tried to make out the words, but the dizziness made it nearly impossible.

They approached you, and you prayed to whoever was listening that they would kill you. Every molecule in your body ached and you were so tired.

The two men dragged your Lusus away with ease, more ease than you’d had carrying her, and you tucked closer into the shadow of the rock.

“Holy thit, I wath right. There ith thomeone here.”

The woman bent down to you slowly, and you hugged your knees to your chest. In the cold of the night, you wished you had something more than your cloak to wear.

“Do you need help, child?” she asked gently, her voice more soothing than you could imagine another trolls being. You look up at her through the shadows, knowing your green eyes were glassy from exhaustion and thirst.

“Please, I’m looking for the safe hive…” you manage to croak from your dry throat. The woman blinked, looking over her shoulder at the two men.

The taller one, your lusus’ body slung over his shoulder, dipped his head, whispering to the other man. You close your eyes, hoping that whichever decision they make that they make it soon.

 

The startle of a hand pressed to your cheek made your eyes shoot open as you pressed your injured back to the rock hard. The woman was touching you, and compared to the stability of her hand you were a trembling mess.

You hadn’t noticed the shaking until then. She turned to look back at them men, her hand still anchored to your cheek.

“She’s burning up, Kankri, we have to bring her with us. She won’t make it through the night otherwise.”

The man in red nodded once sharply, stepping to you as the woman stood.

He was stronger than you’d have thought. He lifted your body with one swoop, barely a sound of effort, and you regretted how little of a fight you could muster. You’d argue that you could walk on your own, but you were actually starting to doubt that. You fastened your arms around his shoulders just so you weren’t being carried like some wriggler on the way to a culling pit.

“What is your name?” he asked, looking down at you. You looked up, your olive eyes catching his and your brows shot up.

In the moonlight, his eyes looked bright, iridescent red. He seemed to have noticed your fear and his gaze hardened, his grip on you tightening. You swallowed the lump in your dry throat before managing to speak.

 

“My name is Meulin.”

“Pleasure you meet you, Meulin,” he nearly hissed, his voice all gravel and hardness, the voice of warning, and making you very aware that if this mutant wanted to, he could cull you right now and no one would be able to say anything about it, “I’m Kankri Vantas.”


End file.
